


Hot and Sticky Loafmaking

by grey2510, ThayerKerbasy



Series: Pour Some Sugar on Dean (In the Name of Love) [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bread, Canonverse Coffee Shop Not-AU, Eldritch Bunker - Freeform, Fluff, Food Porn, Innuendo, M/M, Multi, Timestamp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-28 23:00:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17191898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grey2510/pseuds/grey2510, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThayerKerbasy/pseuds/ThayerKerbasy
Summary: It was their day off work and Dean was looking forward to a day of lounging with his favorite people, but somehow Crowley managed to coax them all back into the kitchen.





	Hot and Sticky Loafmaking

**Author's Note:**

> While I usually write Crowley, this story demanded to be told by Dean, so with Grey's permission I took him for a spin. I wrote the first part and the delightful section at the end is courtesy of Grey. Enjoy!
> 
> -Thayer

"This feels so much grosser than pastry," said Dean as he mixed a bowl of flour, water, salt, yeast, and lard by hand. "Just keep doing this?" 

Resting a hand on Dean’s back, Crowley peered into the bowl. "Until you’ve worked in all the flour, yes."

It was one of their days off work, so they had all day to relax, but when Dean had mentioned wanting to make beef stew for dinner, Crowley immediately said he wanted fresh bread to go with it. Dean wasn’t sure how it’d happened, but somehow he and Cas had agreed to learn how to make bread. It wasn’t how he’d planned to spend his free time, but it was definitely interesting, if messy.

They had their jackets off for baking — Dean down to a t-shirt and jeans and Cas had the sleeves of his button-up rolled up — so it was hardly a surprise when Dean caught Crowley staring at their bare forearms. Honestly, Dean was more of a leg man but he still did the same.

"You do know," said Cas while continuing to mix his own dough, "I’ve been alive since the dawn of time. I’ve seen humans bake bread countless times."

To Dean’s amusement, Crowley wrenched his eyes upward and cleared his throat. "Yes, well, I don’t doubt that, but how many times have you baked bread yourself?"

"...None."

"I thought not. Humor me, would you?"

Dean kept mixing his dough, and while everything had come together, it was a sticky mess and nothing like any bread dough he’d ever seen on TV. "Guys?" He held out the wet mass of bread dough. "What’s next? I didn’t think it’d be this sticky."

Crowley chuckled. "How many blokes have you said that to? Give it here."

Dean passed over the dough, which Crowley held in one floured hand while dusting the table with more flour. When it seemed like the dough might ooze down over his fingers, he slapped it down and folded it over onto itself, kneading like the people on every baking show ever. "There’s no one true right way to do this. Stretch the dough, fold it over, squidge it together. Give it a go."

Scraping the dough off his hands, Dean cleaned up and floured like Crowley and reclaimed his gross mess of dough. He tried to replicate Crowley’s technique: stretch, fold, squish. Even with floured hands, the dough stuck to him a little, like if someone had made flour and water paste into play dough.

Eventually he switched from using his palms to his knuckles for the squishing part because his fingers were getting tired, but at least the damn mess wasn’t so messy anymore. He must’ve been doing something right, because it was starting to look more like the stuff on TV. "So…how long do we do this part?"

"You’re looking for a nice, smooth dough, love," replied Crowley with a smirk. "Keep kneading till your ball’s not sticky anymore, then knead a little more."

"And here I thought you liked sticky balls." Cas’ expression was deadpan as he continued to knead his dough.

Dean chuckled and shook his head. "Damn, Cas, we’ve been a bad influence on you."

"Considering I learned practically everything about humanity from you, I think that was inevitable."

"Touché."

"Now that we’ve sorted that out," said Crowley, "I’m going to touch your balls to see if they’re smooth enough."

Dean gave Crowley a saucy wink and seductively stroked his ball of dough. Kneading was still a pain in the ass, and he had no doubt Crowley had suckered him into doing the work for him, but the afternoon definitely held some potential.

(Bread ) (Bread )

They left the dough to rise in lightly-oiled bowls covered in plastic wrap atop the gently warmed oven. Two episodes of _Doctor Sexy_ later, they returned to two bowls of nicely risen dough covered with bulging plastic domes.

Picking up where he left off before TV time, Dean immediately grinned. "So Crowley, what do you think of our balls now?"

"They’re lovely, darling," Crowley replied. "Hate to break it to you, though, but it’s time to punch your balls."

Dean laughed, even as Cas said, "Given our plans for later this evening, I think you might find that counterproductive."

Crowley rolled his eyes. "You need to dust the table with flour, then knock the air out of your dough and fold it in on itself to ensure it rises up instead of out. We’re not baking with a tin today, so it needs to be able to hold its shape."

"Wait, we’re not?" Dean paused in the middle of taking the plastic wrap off his bowl. "How’re we gonna make ‘em bread-shaped?"

"I actually thought we could make cottage loaves, since we have this lovely old girl," replied Crowley, tapping the Men of Letters era industrial oven.

Cas frowned in adorable confusion. "What are cottage loaves?"

"To put it simply, they’re vertical loaves, meant to save floor space in your oven so you could make the most of your space. Not that we need that, but they’re fun to make, and besides, we don’t have any loaf tins."

Dean shrugged and poured his dough out onto the floured table. "No idea how that’s gonna work, but alright. C’mon Cas, let’s punch our balls."

It didn’t take long to do the punching and folding thing, after which Crowley said, "Now, tear off about a third of your dough and set it back in the bowl for now. That’s how we’re going to get vertical bread."

Dean eyeballed what looked like about a third of his dough and tore it off. Cas was probably using his angelness to cheat at dividing his dough perfectly but whatever. Dean was happy with close enough.

When that was done, Crowley showed them how to form the remaining two-thirds into a smooth ball. "This forms the base of your loaf so the other ball can sit on top. Take your time, you want a nice, round bottom."

"Don’t we all," Dean replied, cupping his ball of dough in one hand.

Cas glanced over while shaping his dough. "You haven’t even started to shape your dough yet, but for the record, your bottom has always been perfect."

"Cas!" Crowley grinned. "That was quite possibly the smoothest thing you’ve ever said. I knew you had it in you."

Ignoring the compliment, Dean fired back, "Not the only thing he’s had in him."

"Are you _boasting_? If you mean what I think you mean, we’ve all done that, but your dough remains unshaped. Keep it up and you’re going to end up with wonky balls."

Without looking up, Cas added, "Nobody wants wonky balls."

"You judging my balls? Seriously, so rude." Copying what Cas was doing, Dean shaped his dough into a smoother, rounder ball. "Hey Cas, check it out. We’re ball handlers now."

"No, ball handler is a sports term, Dean. This is baking, which means we’re bakers."

Honestly, if he didn’t love the guy…

Crowley waited silently for them to finish, then continued, "Shape your top just like your bottom. Every bottom deserves a good top. Tuck your hands in and cup those balls."

"I’ll cup your balls."

"Cup your own first, then we’ll see."

"Fine, I will." While shaping his smaller ball of dough, Dean stroked and caressed it like the most attentive lover. "Mmm, like this? Fuck yeah, that’s gotta be right, ‘cause it feels _so_ damn right."

Crowley almost broke. He lifted a finger, opened his mouth, said, "That’s not, er—" Watching Crowley’s well-oiled brain grind to a halt was so damn satisfying. Well, except that the gears started turning again. "Shape it however you like. They’ll be your wonky balls, not mine."

Cas set his second dough ball beside his first, apparently already done, the unflappable bastard. 

Dean quickly shaped his dough. "Nothin’ wonky ‘bout my balls. What’s next?"

"Get your top up on your bottom," replied Crowley with a smirk. "You’ll want the smaller one on top, for obvious reasons. Be certain you’re balanced well."

"Is the smaller one on top out of preference or necessity?" asked Cas, already following Crowley’s instructions.

"Necessity, though I’m sure it’s a good arrangement for all."

Dean left that one alone in favor of getting his dough balls stacked properly on the baking tray. He’d probably only get one chance to make it look nice, since the dough would probably stick to itself, so he took his time making sure he had it right. Cas, of course, just plonked his dough balls together on the tray and they sat perfectly.

"Now it’s time to bond the top with the bottom. If you don’t, the bottom will blow off the top, so the top will fall off. So it’s all about making both the balls quite tight, and the way you do that is you drive your finger right through the top, all the way in."

Somehow, Crowley managed to say all that with a straight face. That’s alright, Dean figured he could keep up. "I don’t think I should just stick my finger right in there. Shouldn’t I lube up?"

Crowley’s lips twitched. "Absolutely, coat your fingers before you work them in."

An ungodly low moan interrupted Dean before he could come up with something inappropriate to say. Cas had his head back, eyes fluttered shut, index and middle fingers working sensually in and out of his dough. Dean itched to kiss his barely-parted lips and that was before Cas poked the tip of his tongue out.

Dean couldn’t help but watch and imagine those nimble fingers put to better use. A soft sound from his other side sounded like Crowley’s brain shutting off. A small part of Dean was a little disappointed it’d been Cas to manage it and not Dean, but the rest of him didn’t care who pulled it off as long as he got to enjoy it.

Pulling his fingers free, Cas locked eyes with Dean. "Your turn."

"You know," Crowley rasped, "I think we ought to hurry this along so we can do something a little more…entertaining, in private. I can think of a few things we could do to pass the time while these rise again."

Hurrying to finish his own loaf, Dean coated his fingers in flour and stuck them through his dough, then handed it off to Crowley. Turned out baking bread was a really damn good way to spend a day off.

(Headphone ) (Headphone )

"Goddammit," Sam muttered as he slammed the last drawer of the desk in his room closed. He'd been pretty sure he hadn't been in that drawer in weeks, months maybe, but before he went scouring the Bunker for his earbuds, he figured he'd check the more likely places than, say, Storage Room 41B (if that even existed—no matter how many times they looked at the blueprints, it seemed like there were always new rooms cropping up. Either the architects for the Bunker were really shitty record-keepers or they'd wanted to keep it all on a need-to-know basis...or the Bunker was growing new rooms). 

Sam smirked to himself at the idea of the Bunker growing new rooms like some weirdo tentacle monster before frowning at the realization that there probably was some sort of building creature out there in the universe. When God making you pancakes isn't the craziest thing that's ever happened to you, you learn not to be surprised and you always wonder and worry when your weird standards are going to be recalibrated again.

Pushing that thought aside as he pushed back his hair from his face, Sam mentally ran through his movements over the last few days. He'd gone for a run and he'd definitely had his earbuds then, but he already checked the shower room and they weren't there. They weren't in the library or in his bedroom. But he _had_ taken the stolen beater of the week over to the café to do some work there.

(Sam really needed to get his own car. One with absolutely no cassette playing capabilities and if he wanted to hook up his phone or dig out his old iPod, he damn well could and would.)

(He made a note to look into legal car ownership. Well...semi-legal, given the whole legally dead thing. Not stolen, was his point.)

Hoping he'd find his earbuds somewhere between his room and the garage, or maybe in the old station wagon he'd been bumming around in this week, Sam walked carefully through the Bunker halls. But, no such luck. And none in the car either, even though he'd run his hand between the cushions and checked the footwells. He hoped he hadn't left them at the café.

But he had swung by the kitchen when he'd gotten home to reheat the latte he'd let grow cold as he worked... 

New destination in mind, he ambled towards the kitchen. 

_Yes_ , he thought, spotting his earbuds on the floor along the wall, a few feet outside the kitchen door, amazed that they hadn't been stepped on. He stooped to pick them up, just in time to hear the guys' voices drift out into the hallway, along with what sounded like a bowl or pan clunking lightly on the metal countertops.

Shaking his head, Sam rolled up the wires. He couldn't believe they were in the kitchen. He should pop into the kitchen and yell at his brother to take a day off already, order a damn pizza or something. (Yes, he, Sam Winchester, was going to advocate for pizza, if it meant his brother getting a break from work.)

Earbuds acquired, Sam started towards the kitchen but Crowley's voice stopped him cold.

"Now it’s time to bond the top with the bottom. If you don’t, the bottom will blow off the top, so the top will fall off. So it’s all about making both the balls quite tight, and the way you do that is you drive your finger right through the top, all the way in."

Sam was pretty sure his eyes were the size of dinner plates.

"I don’t think I should just stick my finger right in there. Shouldn’t I lube up?"

"Absolutely, coat your fingers before you work them in."

 _Nope nope nope nope,_ Sam's brain screamed at him as a moan from Cas emanated from the room. Finally his feet unstuck and he bolted in the other direction, not even paying attention to what direction he was going, hoping that if the Bunker were a tentacle monster, it would take him now and end his suffering. As he went, he vowed to make sure they were well-stocked with cleaning supplies. Not that he really wanted to go check. He was just going to go buy a shit-ton more. He might not be able to bleach his brain, but he could bleach a countertop.

**Author's Note:**

> For those interested in attempting their own cottage loaf, [this is the recipe I followed](https://thegreatbritishbakeoff.co.uk/classic-cottage-loaf/).  
> Also, thanks to the _Great British Bake Off_ for their wonderful "family friendly" inspiration. (Season 8 episode 3 for anyone who wants to watch this delightful bit of innuendo unfold on screen.)
> 
> If you like our stuff, we have more!  
> [Thayer's works](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ThayerKerbasy/pseuds/ThayerKerbasy/works)  
> [Grey's works](http://archiveofourown.org/users/grey2510/series)  
> And we Tumblr! @[grey2510](https://grey2510.tumblr.com/) and @[thayerkerbasy](https://thayerkerbasy.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos appreciated!!


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